


As the World Burns Down

by Grl_on_Fire



Series: The Tales of Isabelle Riddle [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battle of Hogwarts, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Draco Malfoy Redemption, F/M, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27726707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grl_on_Fire/pseuds/Grl_on_Fire
Summary: In the end, what the Dark Lord thought was his secret weapon may just become his greatest enemy.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Tales of Isabelle Riddle [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1892113
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

_It’s dark now. The days and nights bleed into each other with no real discernible difference. For weeks on end, I feel nothing or everything, the tide of emotions drowning me. I don’t eat. I don’t sleep. The comings and going of those that now occupy the Manor happen around me. I’m there but not, letting whatever occurs kind of nudge me along. I never let Draco out of my sight, following him around like a haunted shadow. No one questions it. No one demands anything of me. I’m untouchable. That protects Draco._

_“A word, Isabelle?”_

_I nearly fall out of my seat. Not having been addressed directly in nearing a month, my name sounds foreign hanging in the still air of the dining hall. Taking in a few rattling breathes; I gather my bearings, turning to face the voice. I stare into the deep, black eyes of Severus. “Sure. What – ”_

_“In the garden – ” he shoots a look at Bellatrix who does nothing to hide the fact she’s listening in “– perhaps.”_

_“After you.”_

_A peacock struts across our path, looking very much like an elegant ghost against the ash grey pebbles and the stormy sky. Severus leads us almost to the edge of the property, pulling out his wand and mumbling spells under his breath. Once he seems satisfied with the magical enchantments, he turns to me._

_“You need to pull yourself together. He’s beginning to doubt you, thinks the boy is making you weak. If you want to keep him safe – ”_

_“I’m trying,” I jump in, the pounding in my head unable to take any more of Snape’s chastising._

_“Trying?” He scowls back at me, eyes quickly raking over me. “You look like you’re dying. You jumped when I addressed you.”_

_I know how I must look, pale and shallow. I can feel the bags under my eyes, feel how dry and bloodshot my eyes are. My lips have chapped, dried blood sitting in a few of the cracks. My hands shake, the veins giving my skin a sickly, blue tinge. I’ve not bothered with my hair, the dark locks hanging in limp, tangled naps around my face. The few pieces I charmed green have lost their color, now just a sad grey, “Can’t sleep.”_

_“They won’t kill him so long as you two keep playing your part.”_

_“I’m feeding him my memories.”_

_“Stop that,” Severus snaps, sounding very much like a mother punishing a child for sneaking dessert before dinner. “The only way to save Draco is to stick to the original plan.”_

_A long slumbering temper raises its head, “And just how do you suggest I do that? He won’t let me off the property. He’s worried they know.”_

_“Are you willing to let me help you?”_

_“I – ”_

_“Yes or no will suffice.”_

_The temper stretches its limbs, testing out how each works, relearning its body, “Yes.”_

_“Then put your head back on. We’re at war,” Severus seizes me by the shoulders, his nose inches from mine. There is a wild panic in his eyes I’ve never seen before as if his life depends on our original plans working. “You’re better than this, smarter. Charm them as you’ve so often charmed others to get what you want. You are capable of making even the most cautious individual believe the worst spun lie. They look at you and see beauty and innocence. They_ want _to believe you. That is your strength.”_

_For the first time in months, my lips twitch into a smirk, arms crossing over my chest, “Are you trying to give me a compliment, Severus?”_

_“A likely deduction,” he answers back, voice sliding into its usual cold, emotionless cadence. The thin line that is Snape’s lips is cocked at a strange angle._

_“I might be the only person in the world who knows you’re smiling right now.”_

_“Perhaps. Now, go in there and show them what you’re made of,” he squeezes my shoulders. “You’ve always had a fire, don’t let them put it out.”_

~~~~~~~

Warm, yellow light dances across perfectly groomed hedges. The sounds of laughter and singing float from the party tent, dancing through the night air. Ladies in elegant dresses and men in colorful dress robes twirl around a dance floor, their heads and shoulders just visible from my hiding spot. In the middle of it all is the happy couple, pressed together, sharing a moment of solitude.

It took me a while to figure out which of the guests is the one I’m looking for. Now as I go to get his attention, I’m quite confidant in my decision. Ron and Hermione have flanked a plump, redheaded boy for almost the whole night, a fabricated long lost cousin probably. In the end, it was Ginny who gave him away. No one looks at family like that.

As he goes to sit down at an empty table on the edge of the tent, I dig a rock out of the soil, sending it flying towards the back of his head. Harry’s fingers rub at his scalp, head half turning in my direction. Another rock. This time Harry stands, wandering a few paces from the tent, his eyes scanning the sky.

“Down here,” I hiss out, tugging at his pant leg.

Harry stumbles, nearly falling on top of me. Jumping to my feet, I catch him by the shoulder. Once I’m certain he’s stable, I set my wand on the ground, raising my hands out in front of me. For a few seconds, he studies me, eyes narrow, fingers curled tightly around his wand.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Nodding, I slowly lower myself to the ground, gesturing for Harry to do the same, “Technically, I’m not.”

Although he joins me on the ground, the grip on his wand never loosens, the tip still pointed at my chest, “What do you want?”

“I’m assuming, mainly because I’m still sitting here, that you got my letter.”

“Yeah, I did. It doesn’t mean I trust you,” he answers, eyes still searching my face, jumping down to my hands, flicking to my wand.

“I never expected you to. Did you understand it?”

“Not really. Dumbledore said – ”

“You and I both know Dumbledore was capable of mistakes.”

Harry swallows, his jaw clenching. For a few seconds, I think he’s going to get up and go. Speaking out against Dumbledore has always set Potter off. It’d be foolish to think anything has changed. “How?”

“My father, incapable of understanding the intense power of love, believed you were able to defeat him because one of his Horcruxes was destroyed. He became obsessed with finishing his task of creating six. I was the last he made before his defeat. Nagini was created when he returned along with one other. What he believed was a replacement and the creation of the sixth.”

“But one of them was destroyed,” Harry answers. “Two actually.”

I offer a shrug, “I’m not sure it would’ve mattered if it had been or not. The Horcruxes had nothing to do with you defeating him. They only ensured he didn’t die completely.”

“I still don’t understand. Wasn’t he obsessed with the right number? In Slughorn’s memory – ”

“The only thing my father is obsessed with is power. He’s terrified of losing it, of dying. The number stopped being important a long time ago. He probably would’ve kept making them but –” Shaking my head, I trail off. Harry already knows the rest, understands that the second he destroyed that diary he set events in motion that cannot be undone.

Harry sighs, relaxing for the first time since he joined me, “How’d you even know it was me tonight?”

“Ginny.”

This gets the dusting of a smile, “So what are you doing?”

“Acting still. It’s all I can do for now. I have to stay close to Draco. He needs me most.” Digging into my pants pocket, I pull out a rusted coin, holding it out for Harry to take. He turns it over in his hand, an eyebrow raised in questioning. “For when you need me.”

“Is – ”

We don’t have much time. There’s no need for faked concern, “It’s okay, Harry. I’ve accepted it.”

He clears his throat, staring down at the coin for a few moments before pocketing it. When he looks back up, he makes a point to not look me in the eyes, fingers digging into his forehead, “Er – he’s still alive then?”

“Yeah.” I can’t help the smile that finds it’s way to my face.

“How?”

Chuckling lightly, I shrug, “I’m sure you’ll remember, I can be rather persuasive when I want. He gave me too much power. For now, I can use it against him, but – ” searing pain shoots through my arm, coursing up my shoulder, bleeding out over my whole body. I stare, open-mouthed and wide-eyed at Harry, trying to suck air back into screaming lungs. As a twig snaps somewhere in the distance, I snatch up my wand, shooting a glance over my shoulder. “Something’s happened. I’ve got to go.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’ve got to get back,” I answer, already beginning to walk backward into the cornfield that surrounds the Burrow. “Stay safe, Harry. I really am on your side.”

There’s almost a nod there as if he almost wants to trust me, as if he almost believes what I’m saying, “You too.”

Everything goes black. I reappear just outside the gates to the Malfoy’s estate. Raising my arm to the black iron, I wait as it begins to creek open. The grounds are eerily still, not even a crow daring disturb the silence. Hurrying up the path, I slip through the front door. Voices creep their way through the halls, muffled by magic or doors or both. As I round the corner, cold hands grab my wrist, yanking me into an alcove just beside the stairs.

“Where have you – ”

Shaking my head, I lay a finger over Draco’s lips, shooting a glance towards the hallway before rolling my gaze to the ceiling. He seems to understand, the two of us wordlessly making our way to his bedroom. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem anyone has noticed or cares that I’ve put protective and silencing charms around the room. I think most of them think Draco and I don’t talk anymore, forced to simply co-exist by obligation and circumstance. I do nothing to correct this. Better them be clouded by their false ideas and shortcomings than never give us a minute alone.

Since the word lashing Severus gave me, that spark inside has been reignited. Draco doesn’t seem to question it; more focused on blocking out the new task Voldemort has given him. We converse when we can, mingling actual information in between talk about returning to school and other trivial matters. So far, it doesn’t seem like he’s having second thoughts about our plan. He follows my lead willingly, hardly ever asking questions.

Now behind closed doors, I take a second to look over Draco. He’s paler than ever before, eyes looking as if they may be swallowed into his skull any second. His whole body quivering, teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

“You’re shaking,” I collect Draco’s face in my hands, running my thumb along his cheek. “He’s made you do it again, hasn’t he?”

He tries to shake me off, “It’s not important.”

“Draco, please.”

That’s all it takes. He collapses against me, holding me to his chest as if I’m the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. Slowly, I move us over to the bed, getting him to lie down. Once he’s under the blankets, head resting in my lap, I begin to run my fingers through his hair. I’ve burned away too many of Draco’s memories. After we went through a period of him forgetting why he was here, we’d decided to stop doing it. Instead, I press my fingers to his temples, feeling the carefully crafted defenses he’s set up melt away. Humming softly, I send him images of better times. After a while, he stops shaking, his breath going from raspy and forced to calm and even. This is as much as I can do. It never feels like enough.

“Where were you?”

Shooting a glance over at the door, I dip my head down, hair creating a kind of veil around our faces, “I had to make sure my letter got to the right person.”

“And did it?”

“Yes,” smiling down at him, I dust my fingertip over the bridge of Draco’s nose, “Do you remember Fleur Delacour, the girl from the Triwizard Tournament? She got married to Bill Weasley.”

“They took over the Ministry tonight,” Draco shudders. “They knew Harry was at that wedding.”


	2. Chapter 2

Hogwarts is cold, cruel. Student’s walk around with dead eyes and banana colored bruised pressed into sunken cheeks. There is no laughter. There is no start of term excitement hanging in the air. Instead, despair hangs over everyone like a tattered blanket not able to keep out the chill. Severus hides and the Carrow siblings maintain order through a harsh regime of terror and violence.

The Room of Requirement becomes a revolving door of secret meetings. Students deploy their acts of defiance, subject themselves to torture, and then disappear into the hidden room. Whispers of a large-scale rebellion sweep through the castle disguised as bland newspapers or approved club announcements. Students leave for Hogsmeade, to go to the loo, to get a meal and never come back.

Draco and I play pretend. Pretend not to hear about rebellion. Pretend to approve of the new way Hogwarts is run. Pretend to still be living perfect, shining lives. Pretend we aren’t on the cusp of war. Pretend that we know what we’ll do, whose side we’ll be on. Pretend we’ve got nothing to worry about. Pretend what goes on outside the dorm of the head boy and girl isn’t our concern.

We pretend until we’re tucked away, protected by charms and then we worry and plan. Worry about what my father could be after. Worry about what Christmas break will be like. Plan how to keep the little ones safe because really this war isn’t theirs and they shouldn’t have to die. Plan how to keep each other alive. Plan how to get out of this.

I plan for my death, waiting each day for the burn of the coin in my pocket. I plan a way to explain it to Draco, to make him understand. I worry about his future, his ability to cope with everything without me. I worry about unfulfilled promises and knowing that no matter how I word it Draco will feel betrayed.

The wedge between houses grows. Everyone against Slytherin. Slytherin who gets special treatment. Slytherin whose students are never punished. Slytherin whose students put up with the tasks and lessons given because what else are we going to do. Slytherin’s who know they’re expected to take the Dark Lord’s side because, well, mum and dad say so. Slytherin’s who want to help but don’t know how to bridge the ever-growing gap of hostility.

“Just screw up your face like you’re in pain and jerk your limbs around,” I whisper to the trembling second year standing in front of me.

Today’s lesson, the same as yesterday and the day before that, is on the Cruciatus Curse. Instead of spiders, like Moody used, we’re meant to practice on our classmates; the weak, terrified first and second years who can’t even levitate a feather. Draco and I work as a pair, shooting off silent charms for tickling or happiness. He jerks away from the screams of students subjected to the real curse. He’s here but not, trying his best to take his mind out of the situation and put it somewhere safer.

A war cry rings through the castle, stilling wands and silencing curses. Today’s victims let out a collective sigh as Amycus flies from the classroom. We pour into the corridor, a hushed whisper sweeping over the group as the last wisp of white-blonde hair disappears around the corner.

“Back to your common rooms, all of you,” Amycus hisses before flying after today’s rebels.

The older students collect the younger ones, escorting them away under the cover of heavy black cloaks. Draco hovers behind me, thin fingers digging into my shoulder drawing pain. Pain that keeps me tethered. Touch that keeps him present. A bond that’s keeping us both alive.

“Go back to the dormitory,” I whisper, trying to pick up the sounds of scurrying feet, another battle cry.

Draco’s arm jumps, the little color left in his cheeks draining away, “Isabelle – ”

“Go back, lock the door, set the charms. I’ll be there,” turning, I take his hands in mine, squeezing. “I promise.”

He teeters for a second, words he wishes he could say hanging off soft pink lips like honey. And then they disappear, swallowed down like foul-tasting medicine. Draco frowns, nods, and then slides past me towards the dungeons. For now, he’s safer alone, protected from the hidden interworking’s of a complicated past merging with a tangled future. For now, he knows only what he needs to, only what will keep him alive. Pushing him in any further would disrupt the delicate ledge we’ve worked to set him on. For now, I need him balancing, holding on, preparing to be strong enough when the final shove comes.

A flash of silver and ruby. The chorus of triumph. The sharp sound of a short-lived victory. Then nothing. Always nothing. Always stiff and silent and blood chillingly cold. This is the precipice of war.

“Dumbledore.”

Smooth stone springing to life. Stairs spiraling forever upwards. Heavy black curtains and a crow sitting at a desk four sizes too big. A crow with time-weathered wings wearing the weight of one too many secrets. A crow still fighting against a death that is lurking in every shadow. A crow wishing it was a dove, but knowing that time has long passed.

“What did they take?”

Severus stirs, raising his head just enough for me to see dead black eyes, “Nothing of importance.”

“Really?” I perch on the edge of the desk, flicking at a steaming silver instrument, enjoying the way the whiffs of smoke curl out of my way only to reshape themselves again. Always reinventing, always becoming whole again. “It looked to me as if they took the sword. A sword that one Harry Potter needs to put an end to his madness! A sword you were meant to be keeping safe!”

A bone-white hand hits against the table, emitting an embarrassingly weak _thrwap_. The voice emitting from the man before me is not one I know, “Do not throw my responsibilities in my face! I have been at this much longer than you and will continue it long after you are dead!”

“Yes. I am not arguing life expectancy. I’m simply stating a fact. The fact that you were entrusted by Dumbledore to keep the sword safe. The fact that you were meant to do this until the time came to hand it over to Potter. The fact that _it appears_ a group of students just ran off with said sword. The fact tha – ”

“The sword is safe,” Severus cuts in, standing from his chair. He turns to a picture of the late headmaster, fiddling with the frame. Seconds later the picture swings out, revealing a cut out in the stonewall behind it. Inside is the sword of Gryffindor. “Do you not think I am incapable, that I have not planned and replanned? That I did not anticipate the sword being stolen, coveted?”

I wait for Severus to shut the hidden cavity and retake his seat before pushing further, “When?”

“When he needs it.”

“It’s been nearly three months. Surely he’s found one of them by now.”

Severus nods in agreement, “He has indeed. The locket looked after by an ugly little thing called Kreacher.”

“Yes, I had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting him during my time in Grimmauld Place. Sirius detested him. How long ago?”

“Only about a month. I’ve lost the ability to keep track of them now that they’ve moved away from the house,” Severus sighs. “Have you heard from the boy?”

Digging into my pocket, I pull out the rusting coin, letting it bounce between my fingers before tucking it away again. I’ll spend the rest of the day checking and double-checking that I really still have it, that it didn’t fall out in Snape’s office, that I didn’t lose it while wandering the castle.

“Nothing. I think he’s under the delusion there is another way.”

Fear and deep sadness sweep over Severus, settling into his harsh facial features and making itself at home, “Perhaps – ”

“We do not have the luxury of wishful thinking and fairytales, Severus. This is my life. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve left Draco for too long.”

Severus stands, clearing his throat, “Why – ”

It is a question I’ve been asked more times than I can count. A question that I’m growing tired of answering. Adults are so quick to forget the feelings experienced while they were children. So quick to write children off as dim, people who cannot fully understand love and hate and fear.

“Because I love him. Because he needs me. Because I’m going to die before the year is over and I don’t want him to think I didn’t care about him. Because if I can give him a glimmer of hope for his future before I go, I’m going to do that.”

The chair legs groan in protest as Severus sinks back against the cushions, “You are young, Isabelle, those feelings they – ”

“Young?” I let out a scoff, words escaping me for a second as I try and wrap my head around the meaning of Snape’s words. “What the hell does that even mean? I wasn’t too young to be in the graveyard. I wasn’t too young to watch Cedric Diggory die. I wasn’t too young to be slotted for death. I wasn’t too young to become a Death Eater. I wasn’t too young when I went to the Ministry. I wasn’t too young to watch Sirius die. I’ve never been young!

From the day I was born I had people telling me who my father was and what I was expected to become. No one sheltered me. Not even you! So don’t sit there and tell me I’m too young to understand my feelings, to know the weight they hold! I love that boy enough to die for him! You of all people should understand that. You were my age when you fell in love with Lilly Potter and you’ve loved her every day since. Don’t sit there and try to tell me that wasn’t real.”

With a heaving chest, I slam the door to Snape’s office, leaving the crow to sit and simmer and die a little more in his own guilt.

~~~~~

Draco is in bed when I return, hiding inside the duvet with his books, orchestra music filling every empty inch of the room. Stripping down to my underwear, I slip between the blankets. We sit like this a lot, nearly naked, our scars visible; open, nothing hidden, completely ourselves.

For the first few months, we traced over each other’s marks, finding little nicks and cuts, explaining the stories behind them. It’s how I’m teaching Draco to accept his past, the marks from Harry’s curse, his promise to the Dark Lord, a few heated arguments with his father. Now we just sit, comfortable with skin against skin and nothing more. It makes us feel whole, like one person. It makes this place ours.

“Tchaikovsky again?”

Draco hums, dog-earing his page before leaning his head on my shoulder, “It reminds me of our first Christmas together as a couple. Father threw a ball for some Ministry officials and their children. We danced until the sun came up, long after the adults cleared out. You bought mother a tea set. It’s still her favorite. You fell into the lake.”

“And you spent the next week smothering me in blankets and refusing to let me get up from in front of the fire,” I laugh, gently playing my fingers over the exposed skin of Draco’s knee.

He catches my hand, pressing a kiss against each of my fingertips, “I was scared you’d die. It was one of the few times I ever saw you as fragile. The music helps me remember that even though you’re much better at hiding it than I am, you’re still fragile.”

“Yes. Being fragile is part of being human. All people are breakable, have hopes and fears. But you make me stronger. When I’m with you those things don’t seem so big. I can give some of my fears to you and in return, you give some of your fears to me.”

Draco squeezes my hand, “I’m scared of running out of time.”

“For what?”

“To be forgiven.”

As the last notes of the record fade away into silence, I collect Draco, holding him tightly against me, “You’ll always have time. I promise.”


	3. Chapter 3

Despite cutting out all unnecessary classes, I still find myself drawn to the forest. To its gentle creaking, to the way the trees muffle the outside world, to the way the shadows play across the slowly decaying leaves creating millions of different shapes. In these shadows, I can let down my facades, let the mask fall away. There’s no one to impress, the haunting eyes of the forest creatures casting no judgments, letting me purge myself of overwhelming guilt and dread.

Even though the forest offers comfort, I hardly go. Draco refuses to enter; terrified of seeing the things he’s only ever experienced in smudged charcoal. I refuse to leave him longer than I have to. With the sand in my hourglass quickly slipping away, I don’t want to miss a single second of the time we’ve got left. Today, I had no choice. I felt myself crumbling, my jaw quivering, and my eyes burning with months worth of unshed tears. Leaving Draco to nap, I wandered down the familiar paths, letting myself collapse against sturdy bark.

And for the first time in months, I sit alone in the dark, letting the weight of everything that’s happened wash over me. My eyes sting; the familiar burn of tears raking against the back of my throat. We almost killed two people last year, innocent people, and I was fine with that. I pushed it off, thought it away. Had Severus not stepped in I would’ve killed Dumbledore without a second thought. I’m barely holding Draco together. He’s tipping further over the edge every day and I’m terrified one day I’m not going to be quick enough to pull him back. I’ve pushed the few friends I had away with sharp words. Even Snape, who has always been in my corner, looks at me with nervous eyes, terrified of me going completely off the rails.

All I ever wanted was to keep Draco safe. I never meant for both of us to lose ourselves in that process.

The hatred for myself, for who I am, for what my father turned me into rushes down my cheeks, wracking through my body in silent sobs. What if they were all right? What if I can’t do this? What if I’m not strong enough to save him? I drown in my doubt, letting it shove my head underwater and hold me down.

“Isabelle?”

Her floating voice cuts through the silence, ethereal and calm. Wiping frantically at my face, I take in a shaky breath before turning in her direction. Luna hovers on the edge of the clearing, her hair spilling from a sloppy bun, bare toes digging into the cold earth. She gives me a sad smile, wandering to sit next to me. Without asking, she curls her arms around me, holding me tightly against her.

“I know we’re not friends, but everyone needs someone to talk to.”

For a long while, I sit there in that friendly embrace; an embrace that knows without asking, an embrace that offers a cease-fire to the war going on inside. I relax into the comfort of a touch that offers nothing but understanding, healing, unwavering solidarity. Luna brings a tantalizing peace, something solid and steady in unknown waters. In this silent interaction, Luna offers herself up as a haven, acting as the gentle fluttering of bird’s wings, of a smooth piano melody on a sunny morning.

“Things are never going to be the same, Luna,” I finally whisper out, more tears spilling down my cheeks, staining the light blue of her jumper a dark navy. “And despite wishing I did, I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know if what I’m doing is right. And so many people are going to die because of what I’ve done and I can never take that back. And he’s so worth it, but in the end, it doesn’t matter because I still have to leave him. And I don’t know how to tell him that without destroying him because it’s always just been us. How do you say goodbye to somebody you aren’t ready to leave? How do I explain to him that I’ve always known, that I let him fall in love with me knowing?”

Luna gently strokes my hair, “Does he love you?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“Then he’ll understand. He’ll be sad because losing people is always sad, but he’ll get it. He’ll be happy he got his time with you.” She catches a few of my tears on the tip of her finger, probing them gently with the tip of her wand. I watch as the drops turn to shimmering silver, beginning to twists and turn. Slowly, the tears sprout wings, beautiful light and dark blue mixing in with gleaming silver. The new creature flutters it’s wings, hovering on the tip of Luna’s finger. “There’s beauty in loss, but perhaps he can always have a piece of you with him.”

Luna produces a jar from the pocket of her jumper, allowing the butterfly to crawl inside, “Feed it glowworms and it should live forever.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t nicer to you, Luna.”

She shrugs, wrapping her arms back around me, “I don’t think you remember, but at the Ministry, there was a spell headed towards me. You deflected it. I think that’s nice enough. You could’ve let it hit me. You weren’t supposed to be fighting with us.” She frowns. “I’m sorry you lost your friend. He seemed nice, Sirius.”

“He was. Do you think people can change, Luna, shake off the past?”

“If they really want to, yes. Do you think you could bring pudding to the hiding spot? The man at the Hogshead has been very nice, but the broth is getting a bit boring.”

Chuckling lightly, I wipe at my face, “If you promise not to let the people inside hex me the second I get through the door.”

“I’ll tell them you’re a new friend. I think that’s what we are now, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” I let my head fall to her shoulder, “I’m okay with being friends. I could use a few of those right now.” 

~~~~~~

“What’s this?” Draco picks up the jar with the butterfly inside, watching it flap its wings.

“A present. You’ve got to feed it glowworms. It’s meant to live forever. I – ” the truth sits on the tip of my tongue. He deserves to know. To just rip myself out of his life with no explanation would be cruel. I want to do it the right way, choose my words, express how much knowing him, loving him, growing with him has meant to me. Just blurting it out wouldn’t do justice to all of that. Shaking my head, I let out a sigh. “That’s my heart. It’ll stay with you forever.”

Draco gives the jar one last look before turning to me, “Sometimes you talk like we’re running out of time.”

“I just want you to know that you’ve got it, my heart, I mean. It’s yours to look after, to care for,” I crack a smile. “To feed glowworms to.”

He walks across the room, collecting me in his arms. We sway gently back and forth, Draco burying his face in my hair, “Do you remember when we were little? We used to hide in that weird little room behind the door in my closet. Mum would lose her mind looking for us. It was easier then, wasn’t it? Life was easier.”

"If we stayed little forever I would’ve never gotten to love you.”

Draco spins me, quickly pulling me back to his chest, “I loved you then, not the same way, but I did. You were the first person that ever really felt like home. When I look at you I see everything; my best friend, my confidant, my future, my whole world.”

“What about Lucius and Narcissa?”

“They’re family. Family isn’t home, not for me anyway.”

I nod, understanding what he means. I’ve shifted from family to family my whole life, never quite feeling like I belonged. Even after meeting my father I never got that definitive feeling of home or being accepted and loved. I’ve only ever felt that standing next to Draco, his fingers threaded through mine, his eyes sparkling as he looks over at me, “Not for me either.”

“Where’s home for you?”

Stopping our swaying, I press my ear to Draco’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, soaking in the feeling of the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, “Anywhere I’m with you.” 


	4. Chapter 4

The kitchens still feel like Hogwarts, full of mesmerizing smells and elves that are always happy to fill your bellies and share stories. Draco and I warm our souls by the fire, sitting on little stools, sipping warm cups of cider. The Carrows avoid the place, turning up their noses at the idea of associating themselves with a room full of the help. Draco takes to the elves quickly, surprisingly pleased to see Dobby again.

I quietly watch them interact, Draco and the elf reminiscing about childhood games and life before I arrived. They seem more like acquaintances than master and servant, Draco even accepts the little knitted hat Dobby offers him, tucking it into a corner of the glass box we got for his butterfly.

With the help of Dobby and the other house-elves, food begins making its way to the Room of Requirement. Luna writes me a beautiful thank you letter on periwinkle parchment that smells of lavender and honeysuckle. In her sweet, roundabout Luna way she says people appreciate the food but wouldn’t want me just showing up.

It happens on a Wednesday. A day so clouded over it’s impossible to tell morning from evening. The feeling of hot metal through my robes nearly sends me to the floor. It’s the shock of it all; the idea that Harry had lost the coin or truly believed there was some other way.

The truth is, no matter what I’ve told Severus, I was beginning to get comfortable with the idea of living in a fantasy world. Harry would give me the whole year and then, when all hope seemed lost, when the battle seemed like it would never end, he’d get it. I’d get that last moment with Draco, to explain the best I could, to hold him, to look into his eyes, to have him be the last thing I saw. It was all just a fantasy though.

Now that it’s here I don’t know what to do with it. I spent so long figuring out how to say the right thing, to convey to Draco just how much he means to me and now that time has come. I still have no idea what I’m meant to do, how I’m supposed to make him understand. Perhaps it’s better this way. A clean cut. One day I’m here and the next I’m not. He’ll have questions that will never be answered and one day he’ll wake up and realize he never really wanted the explanation anyway. Perhaps hating someone is easier than missing them, wishing they were still there.

“Draco – ”

“Go.” He frowns, shaking his head. His fingers twitch in mine, eyes bouncing all over the empty hallway. “Whatever it is it’s better than watching you pace around like an animal in a cage. So go.”

I let out a long sigh, dragging my foot over the stone flooring, “Now that I’ve got to, I’m not sure I want to anymore.”

“But you have to.”

It’s more of a statement than I was ever prepared for and it sends my haphazardly constructed walls crumbling. Biting into my lip and trying desperately to hold back tears, all I can manage is a shrug.

“Will you come back?”

“Someday.”

Draco pulls me into his chest, “I’ll be waiting.”

“How long?”

Although his voice trembles, I don’t feel the slick wetness of tears or hear the sniffling that usually accompanies them, “As long as I have to. As long as you need. As long as I live and then the next thousand years.”

I fear I’ve been bad at hiding the inevitable. Although he might not fully understand, Draco knew something was coming. He understands that this will likely be goodbye. He’s handling it better than I ever imagined, able to show me he’ll be hurt but he’ll keep going.

“I love you, Draco,” Taking a step back, I give his hand a hard squeeze. “I’ll always love you until every star falls from the sky.”

He nods, tipping down to press a kiss to my forehead, “I know. I’ve got your heart remember? Now go, before I decide I can’t let you.”

“You’re stronger than you know, Draco. Don’t forget that.”

With one last sad smile, I begin to back down the hallway, keeping my eyes on Draco until I’m forced to round the corner, leaving behind my life, the only person I’ve ever really trusted. The worst part is, no matter how hard I fought, no matter what I did, my father was always going to win. He made sure of that the day he turned me into one of his abominations. He knew. Every time I looked at Draco, every time I fought for him my father laughed. Laughed because he knew, in the end, I would be the one to deal the killing blow; his cruel trick. And despite knowing, despite figuring that out, I couldn’t stay away. Maybe my father was right; maybe I am the villain.

“Come to tell me how to do my job again?”

Ignoring Snape’s jibe, I pull the burning coin from my pocket, tossing it amongst the papers scattered over the desktop. For a few seconds, neither of us says anything. Severus dusts his fingers over the burning metal, his lower lip trembling, eyes sparkling in the candlelight. Even knowing that this will likely be the last time we ever lay eyes on one another, neither dares make the contact, neither dares look up from the floor. To do that would be to accept it, to acknowledge it, and neither one of us could make it past that.

“I have to go tonight. Right now. I need your help getting out of the castle.”

Slowly, Snape rises from his chair, eyes flicking once more to the fiery red trinket before nudging it back in my direction, “Follow me.”

We glide like smoke across water, eyes sliding past us as if we’re part of the scenery. No one stops us, no one questions. It’s like the whole school understands this is a funeral march and none dare to try and stop it. For the first time in my life, I feel the cool, calloused skin of Snape’s hand, gripping mine like some kind of anchor. I’ve never seen him twitching, never seen him refuse to blink, never heard him fighting with his own breath.

As we reach the gates, I stop, not quite ready to breach the protective boundary. In here I’m not required to do anything, permanently stopped from flipping the switch. Out there offers no protection, no possibility of going back. Out there the words will feel hollow and empty. I need to say them now, where they can still take life, where there’s still a possibility they’ll actually be heard.

“You were the only man I knew who ever deserved the title of father,” Reaching up, I stall a trail of tears with my thumb. “Don’t weep, we hardly have time for it. Keep your mind strong. You are the weapon now. You stand between them and the Dark Lord. Look after Draco, though I think he understands more than I give him credit for. Thank you, for giving me a home, for showing me independence, for teaching me to be strong. For teaching me how to face what lies ahead.”

Gently, I slide the gates of Hogwarts open, stepping through the thin crack before pulling them quickly shut. The crow must stay with his nest lest it be destroyed. It’s Snape’s turn to catch my tears, a gentle hand caressing my cheek. “Don’t do this.”

“We all have jobs to do, Severus, this is mine.”

Closing my eyes, I picture the coin, the coordinates ringing the worn away picture of Gringotts. Darkness. The feeling of a hand slipping through mine. Silence. The scent of wet leaves. Whispered voices. I open my eyes to the forest.

Righting myself, I let my gaze meet emerald green. Digging my wand from my pocket, I toss it to the leaf-covered ground, giving a slight bow, “Whenever you’re ready.”


End file.
